


Here From Eden

by symbioteboyfriend



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Bisexual Eddie Brock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-Neutral Venom Symbiote (Marvel), M/M, Trans Eddie Brock, description of panic/anxiety attacks, eddie brock has anxiety and venom learns how to help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-10 22:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16463780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symbioteboyfriend/pseuds/symbioteboyfriend
Summary: Eddie Brock works through his anxiety with the help of Venom.





	1. Meditation, Yoga, and Other Terrible Suggestions

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Hozier song ‘From Eden’.

As much as Eddie wished meditation could work for him, he didn’t see it happening. He didn’t even think it was because the DVDs he bought were in Mandarin; if he was being honest, he’d given up on it before he brought them home. The DVDs were an excuse to say he’d tried another way to meditate and it hadn’t worked, so stop telling him he should just “take deep breaths and concentrate”. He would never say that to Mrs. Chen, because he liked her, and her convenience store was as cheap as it was comfortingly familiar. But he thought it.

Meditation, scented candles, burning incense, yoga—don’t even get him started on yoga. He’d gone to a yoga class once, on Anne’s strong suggestion, and only because she’d purchased a few sessions as a gift. In the first session, he fainted after standing up from Downward Dog, and hit his head so hard on the floor he got a concussion. Anne had been upset when he wouldn’t go to the rest of the yoga classes, but she conceded that worrying about being concussed more was sufficient reason.

Eddie had, of course, tried going the official diagnosis-through-therapists route. They had agreed that he definitely suffered from an anxiety disorder, but he was unable to get anything more helpful out of them. Every few years, he set out looking for a new therapist, and every few years, he became disgruntled with how much effort it took. Some claimed to be trans-friendly but weren’t, some were open-minded but way too exhausting to educate, and sometimes he just didn’t click with people. Anne thought he was being too picky. She was probably right, but Eddie thought he was allowed to be a bit picky, given the situation. And if he couldn’t even do yoga right, he definitely wasn’t good at choosing therapists.

Being the kind of journalist who sought confrontation and exposed corruption was inherently stressful, and yet Eddie found himself more anxious when he didn’t have a story. It was the feeling of waiting in limbo that drove him crazy; he needed to know what was happening, what would happen, and when he didn’t, his brain wanted to shake itself apart.

Knowing this, Eddie hadn’t been surprised at the forceful calm he felt disrupting his own interview and confronting Carlton Drake. Drake, unsurprisingly, threw him out, but he planned for that, so he wasn’t worried. He didn’t start worrying until he and Anne lost their jobs and he subsequently lost Anne. Finding somewhere else to live and moving all his stuff out of Anne’s place maintained his momentum for a while, but the first night in his apartment had been bad. He actually hadn’t left it for a full 24 hours before he decided that being curled up in the fetal position on his bed wasn’t going to help anything. Which was how he’d discovered Mrs. Chen’s convenience store and bought the meditation DVDs.

When it became clear that he wasn’t going to get his old job back, Eddie threw his energy into finding a new equilibrium so he didn’t feel a step away from shaking out of his skin. He had just settled into what felt like an acceptable routine—buy something frozen for dinner, overpay for free papers from Maria, listen to the horribly loud but predictable music emanating from across the hall—when Dora Skirth dropped the bomb that Eddie was right about Drake. 

That had felt like being doused in cold water. His initial reaction was to try to win Anne back, because look! There had been a _reason_ for all his bullshit! Anne didn’t agree that the end justified Eddie’s means, but he forced himself to move past that. He finally had something to channel his energy towards. And then, of course, he met Venom.

Or, rather, the speeding train of his life was shoved to another track by Venom.

After making a complete fool out of himself around (and in) the lobster tank of a restaurant, Eddie was almost glad to be told it wasn’t his fault. Having a super-parasite wasn’t...great, but at least he didn’t want to die of embarrassment anymore. He just chalked up biting into a live crustacean as ‘shit that might as well happen’.

As he was bundled out of the car and into the hospital Dan worked at, he overheard Anne trying to work out exactly what was wrong with him. “He has problems with anxiety sometimes, he’s had panic attacks before, but that doesn’t explain this, Dan!”

Dan stole a glance at Eddie, who didn’t have the energy to do anything but smile weakly and hope it didn’t look like an insane grimace. “I know. Look, Anne, we’ll get an MRI done, and I’ll let you know what we find. We can help him. He’ll be okay.” Dan reached out and clasped Anne’s forearm. “I promise.”

She exhaled in a rush. “Thank you.”

Eddie soon discovered that MRIs were now on the list of perfectly normal things to have an aversion to. Thankfully, Dan assumed that the reaction he had was a panic attack and not the sentient being possessing his body having some kind of fit. He drew comfort from the fact that at least his ex was dating a nice guy, a guy who would reassure him that a lot of people got nervous during MRIs and not to worry about it.

Ha. Fat chance.

Later, when he got back to his trashed apartment, he realized he didn’t actually have time to worry about the implications of never being able to get in an MRI machine. 

 **We are _not_ doing that again.** Venom—because apparently aliens capable of body snatching _had_ to have dramatic names—scolded him. 

“Oh, I am with you on that,” he mumbled under his breath.

Eddie came to terms with sharing his body with a super-powered symbiote surprisingly quickly. There was no room to panic when you were busy being 7 feet tall, bulletproof, and biting people’s heads off. He admitted he could probably get used to it.

When he watched the explosion from Drake’s rocket disintegrate Venom’s stretched-out form, he thought he was going to die even as he knew Venom had just saved him. He held it together just long enough for Anne to drive him home, and gave a pained rejection to her offer to stay with him.

“No, no, really, I’m fine. I just need to be by myself right now. Once I calm down, I’ll be okay.” Eddie pulled his shirtsleeves down over his hands and made an effort to look Anne in the eyes, nodding. “Really. You can go.”

She moved towards his door and turned back, concern engraved into her expression. “Eddie...you’re sure? You’ve been through a lot, you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Talking is the last thing I want to do right now,” he chuckled weakly, then cleared his throat. “It’ll be okay. Eventually.” 

“Alright. If you need me-”

“I’ll call. Don’t worry.”

He closed the door gently behind Anne and walked robotically to the couch, collapsing into it with a thud. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He curled into a ball with his back pressed against the couch and dragged his hands down his face. “Shit. What am I supposed to do now?”

How was he supposed to come back from this? What if his organs started shutting down because Venom hadn’t been able to completely heal him? What if Drake’s people kept coming after him? What if he couldn’t go back to living like he had been before? What if he couldn’t be normal again?

His chest felt tight. Like Riot was trying to dig into his ribs with their claws instead of impaling him on a blade. He knew he was hyperventilating but his chest _hurt_. He tried to take his pulse but his hands were shaking too much to find it against his neck. Something was wrong, something had to be wrong, what if he was dying? What if he was bleeding out internally from his earlier injuries?

 _Fuck, I’m gonna die. I’m gonna fucking die on this couch and Venom’s not here and if they_ were _here, they could fix me. But they can’t. Why is this happening?_ Eddie pulled a nearby blanket over to him and wrapped it tightly around himself. He shook as he tried in vain to breathe in slowly. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

He felt like a record skipping back to the same thought, over and over. _Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. I’m not okay._ He could hardly think with how loudly his brain was screaming at him.

“Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. You’re not dead yet. You might not even be dying at all,” he whispered to himself. “Let’s think. Let’s think. You’ve felt like this before. You’re having a panic attack. You can deal with this. What’s gonna help? You’re on the couch. You’ve got a blanket. That’s good!” He ignored the whimper that escaped his throat after trying to pretend anything about this situation was _good_. “Okay. You couldn’t be doing anything else right now to help this. This is fine. You can just- you can just- you’re going to lay here for a bit. It’s okay.” _It’s not._ “You’re doing okay.” _This is_ your fault _!_

He lifted his hand up and rubbed at his sternum with the tips of his fingers. “Ssh, ssh. You’re fine, you’re fine, it’s okay, you’re _safe_.” Humming and softly stroking where his chest hurt, he tried to concentrate on controlling how fast he was inhaling and exhaling. His heart rate settled and he felt some tightly wound part of him unfurl. “There you go. There you go. Relax.” He continued making gentle shushing sounds at himself.

Eddie sighed. His whole body throbbed like he’d gone another round against Drake and Riot with only his bare hands. He was drenched in sweat.

“This sucks.” He yawned and resigned himself to the muscle aches he would feel later from falling asleep in a cramped position on the couch. Finally, finally, he was calm enough for his body to let him rest.

Hours later, he jolted awake as he felt something brush his leg. It was dark in his apartment, but there was—a moving shadow? It oozed up the surface of the couch from the floor and disappeared under his skin like it belonged there.

This had to be a dream. That couldn’t be—“Venom? Is that- are you here?” He barely stopped himself from saying _home_ ; Venom was with him, they had come back! “You’re okay!”

Venom purred and Eddie felt the vibration of it echo through his ribcage. **We are okay. We are whole again.**

“Thank you, thank you! Oh, thank god!” Eddie gasped.

**We’re not God. We are Venom.**

“Yeah. We are.” He smiled faintly and traced along the lines of his palm with his other hand. He couldn’t see them, but he imagined he was touching the veins of black that meant Venom had come back to him. That meant Venom had saved him. He drifted off again, enveloped in the warm sensation of feeling completely protected.


	2. Nails on a Chalkboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie Brock works through his anxiety with the help of Venom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray for the longest single installment of creative fiction I’ve ever written! This chapter is set a few months after the previous one, for context.

The shrill buzzing of Eddie’s alarm clock rattled his cheap nightstand. He shot up in bed, heart pounding, and fumbled in the dark to turn the alarm off. After missing several times, he pulled the clock in his lap and used both his hands to carefully press the right button. Eddie set the clock down, dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, and sighed.

He felt a buzzing in the back of his skull, and for once, it wasn’t Venom clamoring for attention. “Nope. We’re not doing this today. I got shit to do, I do not have time for your nonsense.”

**Eddie?**  Venom responded mournfully.  **Why are you upset? Haven’t even asked for food yet.**

“Oh, not you baby,” Eddie said without thinking. He winced. “I was talking to my brain. It’s trying to start shit but we have places to go and people to eat.” 

**Baby? We are not a baby. But we would like to eat people.**

“It’s a term of endearment, a compliment. And no promises on the eating people. That’s a solid maybe.” 

They hummed a note of displeasure.  **A term of endearment...just remember we aren’t a parasite.**

“Whatever you say.”

**EDDIE!**  

“You aren’t a parasite, but you  _are_ a bit of a baby.” Eddie stood up and shook out his hands, slowly curling his fingers towards his palm and releasing them. “We just have to get through the day. Just today. We’ll be alright.”

**Of course. We’ll always be alright.**

His mouth curled up at the corner. “Thanks. I mean it.”

Eddie walked to the kitchen and started heaping coffee into a coffee filter. He held the coffee pot under the running tap and scratched fitfully at his arm with his other hand. After he added water and pressed the start button, Eddie stood still for a moment, shivering. Venom stopped his hand as it moved to scratch at his arm again and held it still.

**What are you doing? We aren’t cold. Our skin doesn’t itch.**

“Oh- that’s- don’t, um, it’s nothing. We can’t worry about it right now.” He shifted his weight back and forth. “Okay. Okay. Do we need a shower? I think we should, we have two interviews and a lead we need to evaluate. Let’s shower.” 

**Then breakfast. We will feel better after breakfast.**  

“For sure.”

But as Eddie stepped into the running shower, he felt the background static in his head get louder. He rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and clutched at his sides, squeezing tightly. “Come on. We haven’t even done anything yet. We know exactly what we’re going to do today and when it’s going to happen. Deep breaths.” His chest began to rise and fall more slowly as Venom oozed out of his pores to mimic the position of his own arms, hugging him tightly. 

**Eddie, please, what’s wrong? We don’t understand. Nothing we’ve done yet is dangerous and we’re not hurt.**

“I can’t explain right now, Venom, I’m sorry. I can’t focus on it that much until today is over.” Eddie’s voice caught; he swallowed thickly around the apprehension in his throat and took several measured breaths. “Just...hold me for a minute? That helps, you holding me.” 

Their response was instant.  **Anything for you. Anything for us.** Venom formed their chest, arms, and head slightly above Eddie’s so that he was cradled under their chin and pulled him close.  **Whatever you need.** They gently dragged their claws through his hair once, and then stopped, hesitating.  **Does that help?**

Eddie melted further into Venom’s embrace. “Yeah. Yes. Very much.” He sighed, and Venom continued to caress his scalp as hot water streamed over them. Unfortunately, his stomach had no consideration for quiet moments and chose to growl in displeasure at the fact he hadn’t eaten yet. He looked down at his stomach, then up at Venom, and rolled his eyes at their smug expression. 

**We are hungry.**

“I know, I know, and this time it’s not just you begging me to buy us chocolate because you haven’t had a meal in two hours. Bacon today? And scrambled eggs?” Eddie reached for the soap and began to wash the rest of himself, wondering if his coffee would still be warm when he was done. Venom retreated back into his body to get out of the way; Eddie chuckled at how the promise of food was the only thing that always got them to cooperate. 

**Bacon is dead. But as long as you don’t burn it, we will like it.** Venom would have sniffed haughtily if they weren’t...wherever they went when they were inside Eddie.

He caught the intentional switch from the inclusive ‘we’ and bristled. “Oh please, the bacon was not burnt last time. It just wasn’t raw. We have to be careful about when we eat raw meat, I don’t want to get sick again.” He stepped out of the shower and haphazardly dried himself off with a towel that smelled like it maybe—no, definitely—needed to be washed. “Shit, we gotta remember to do laundry when we get back.”

The light in the bathroom was harsher then normal as he ran his hands through his hair to see if it would lay flat today. “Fuckin’... goddamn _hair_. Lost cause.” Well, he could probably get away with blaming it on his motorcycle helmet.

**Sorry.**

“Don’t think my hair being hopeless is anything we can help, Venom.” He squinted into the bathroom mirror, towel wrapped around his waist, and wondered why something just felt _off_. He didn’t look sick, he looked completely healthy, what could he possibly be worried about? Eddie traced along the horizontal scars on his chest with a careful hand that was definitely not trembling. No, his hands were perfectly steady because they had no reason not to be.

**Sorry for teasing. Didn’t mean to be rude. We always love bacon, even if it’s cooked.**

Eddie shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

**We’re upset now. We don’t like being upset.**  

“That’s not because of what you said, it’s-” He stopped abruptly and walked out of the bathroom. “It’s- don’t worry about it.”

**_You_ ** **are worried. Is it about the people we’re interviewing today? Are they bad? We could always eat them.**

“No, Venom, we are not going to eat the Homeless Advocacy Project representative, or the source who thinks that councilman is embezzling campaign funds. They’re good people.” Eddie wished that storming into his room to look for clothes were an effective way to exit the conversation; sadly, Venom was a bit harder to shake off than that.

**Something is bothering us.** Venom’s tone almost sounded pleading, as though they thought Eddie was punishing them by not explaining what was wrong.

“We’re fine. I’m fine.” Eddie ignored the urge to drop into a crouch to present a smaller target to—something—as he pulled on a shirt and pants. “Alright, eggs and bacon! And the beautiful siren song of coffee! You ready, Venom?”

**Ready, Eddie.**

Venom’s attention turned away from Eddie’s inexplicable tenseness toward breakfast, and Eddie almost felt bad for distracting them with the familiar exchange. He wasn’t sure how to explain that just because he was worried didn’t mean it was for a reason, and they didn’t have time for him to try right now. If his skin wasn’t still vibrating at an uncomfortable frequency when they got home, he would tell Venom...what? That his brain was a mess? _Well, they already know that,_ he mused. _And apparently I’m still a perfect host._

Breakfast made Eddie more confident he could get through the day without screaming. Venom sent out a happy hum of contentment when Eddie let them eat the bacon grease that was left over, which left him with conflicting sensations of the warmth of sitting in open sunlight and disgust. He decided to enjoy basking in Venom’s happiness and ignored that it was because they had eaten congealed bacon fat like it was candy. After shrugging into his jacket, Eddie shook out his hands one last time as he left his apartment. 

“We’re gonna kick today’s ass.” 

* * *

 “So I think you can see, Mr. Brock, that Ted Baskman’s use of campaign funding at Kusakabe restaurant was far from legal-”

Eddie clenched his teeth until a muscle in his jaw twitched. The man sitting across from him failed to notice. “Mr. Lanning. If Baskman was using a dinner at Kusakabe as a fundraiser, he did not actually break the law by using his own campaign funds. When you called me, you said you had information that could eliminate Baskman from the race. You said you had proof he was stealing the money of his constituents.”

Lanning pushed his glasses higher up his nose, and arranged his features into a condescending frown that wouldn’t be out of place on a teacher scolding a kindergartener for eating glue. “You’re pronouncing it wrong. It’s actually lah-ning, not lan-ing.” 

Tyler Lanning, Eddie thought, would be a lot easier to hate if he wasn’t so smugly gorgeous. In fact, that was probably the only reason he’d sat at the park table listening to him for this long. Because Tyler Lanning was also, to an unbelievable degree, full of shit. He had spent the last 62 minutes telling Eddie how Ted Baskman was “misusing” his campaign funds for personal expenses. Except it was unclear how any of the given expenses were personal, because they all connected directly to Baskman’s campaign, at least in a way that was technically allowed by the Ethics Commission. Every time Eddie asked Lanning to elaborate on why he thought Baskman was corrupt, he loudly insisted that it would be obvious to any competent reporter, and was Mr. Brock sure he was up to the task after the Life Foundation incident?

He could feel a tension headache creeping down the back of his neck, and rolled his shoulders in a fruitless effort to release the tightness winding them like a spring. “Mr. Lanning, I’m beginning to feel like there’s an ulterior motive and not a story here. Do you have any reason to hold a grudge against Ted Baskman? He fire you or something?” That would normally have been too blunt a question to ask a potential source, but Eddie could feel Venom getting restless and forming bristling curls under the sleeves of his jacket. He needed to leave.

Lanning turned bright red and scoffed indignantly. “How dare you! I came to you with a valuable story, and you accuse me of lashing out like a child! My past employment with Baskman is completely irrelevant! I was sure you would be more professional than this!”

“Uh huh.” Eddie stood up and put on his motorcycle helmet, but left the visor flipped up. “Well, no one’s ever accused me of being overly professional.”

Lanning stood as well and pointed at Eddie, leaning over until his finger brushed the side of his forearm. “I’ll take this story to a different journalist.”

Venom gave a hiss that only Eddie could hear. **Bite his hand off.**

“Gotta say, Lanning, I don’t really care what you do. Have fun wasting someone else’s time.” Eddie forced an insincere smile and waved. Privately he thought, _that dickhead kinda deserves to have his hand bitten off._

Lanning turned away from Eddie and walked away with clenched fists.

**Quickly, he’s getting away.**

“No, Venom,” Eddie said under his breath. He strode to the nearby curb where his motorcycle was parked. “Being a dick isn’t a bite-worthy offense.” 

**We were looking at him like we wanted to eat him.**

“I promise you, we weren’t.” He linked his arms behind him and stretched to crack the joints in his upper back. “God, that feels better.”

**Yes, we were! You were hungry. You thought he looked ‘delicious’.**

Eddie snorted. “I did, but that’s not what I meant. Lanning was hot, but he was such an ass it cancelled out.” 

**If he looked delicious, then why-**

The driver of a passing car honked at someone else, but the sound was so close to Eddie that he jumped back in surprise. His eyes widened as he clutched at the neckline of his shirt. 

“Jesus.” The sound of the horn echoed in the back of his mind; he was suddenly aware of his quickened pulse roaring in his ears. “Alright, let’s, uh... Where are we headed?” 

**Talking to the people who are upset about Drake taking Maria and the others.**

“Homeless Advocacy, right. Thanks. I’m surprised you remember Maria’s name.”

**She was my host, even if she wasn’t as good of a match as you. Even if I killed her. It would be rude to forget her.**

“Of course.” Eddie agreed as he fumbled through his pockets for his keys. “Keys, keys- shit!” He knelt down and grabbed the key ring, pressing it to his chin. After a strained exhale, he murmured, “Keep it together.”

He stood, threw his leg over his motorcycle, and flipped down the visor on his helmet.

**We should have worn a warmer jacket today.**

“And what makes you say that?” Eddie asked, steadfastly ignoring the jangling sound the keys made as his shaking hands lifted them to the ignition.

**We’re shivering again.**

“We’re not.”

**Yes, we are.**

“We’re fine.” Eddie started the motorcycle and pulled away from the sidewalk. “Let’s just get through this next interview.”

* * *

 

Teresa Friend, his next interviewee, was both more helpful and more respectful than Tyler Lanning. She was the director of the Homeless Advocacy Project, and Eddie had reached out to her for an interview regarding the homeless people (including his friend Maria) Drake had killed in his symbiote experiments. Of course, Friend didn’t know about the symbiotes; she assumed the experiments were related to an experimental drug Drake had been developing. Still, it was good to talk to someone who actually gave a shit about people like Maria. It kept Eddie from becoming disillusioned with trying to improve the fucked-up parts of society.

With all of this in mind, Eddie couldn’t explain why his whole body itched to _get out of there_ because _something wasn’t right._

“I want to thank you again for asking to meet with me, Mr. Brock. Our city needs to be more concerned with the welfare of our homeless population, or we’re going to keep having Carlton Drakes take advantage of them.” Friend smiled brightly and reached her hand over the conference room table.

“No problem, Ms. Friend. I lost a good friend of mine to Drake’s—if you’ll pardon my language—indefensible bullshit.” Eddie moved his arm to meet Friend’s attempted handshake, but stopped when he noticed the sheen of sweat coating his palm. He hurriedly wiped it off on his pant leg and clasped her hand briskly.

Friend strode to the entrance of the room and turned back. “Can you find your way back to the lobby? I have a call I need to prepare for.”

“Can do.” Eddie rose from his seat. Something in his chest twisted and he grimaced in discomfort. 

“Are you all right?” 

“Oh sure, I’m peachy. It’s just...my leg fell asleep, it’ll be okay in a minute. I’ll see myself out, wouldn’t want to keep you from your work.” Eddie desperately hoped the expression on his face did not betray the chorus of _get out, get out, get OUT_ tattooing itself on the back of his eyes.

Friend nodded. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Brock.”

“And you, Ms. Friend.”

Eddie fled the building at a pace that could be generously described as an agitated half-jog. He raised two fingers to the side of his neck; although it felt like his heart was sprinting in circles, his pulse was no less sedate than usual.

“Jesus Christ. I don’t know if we can follow up on that lead about internship law abuse. Don’t think we have it in us.”

**We could have taken the elevator.** Venom said, their response edged in hesitation. **Then we wouldn’t be as...tired?**

“No, what if someone else had gotten on the elevator? Too closed in. Better to walk down the stairs so we didn’t pass any people.” Eddie glanced from side to side. No one was watching them. What if someone saw him walk to his motorcycle? 

**If someone tries to follow us, we will kill them.**

“No one’s following us, I’m just, uh. Just making sure. We’re parked down at the end of the block, right? It’s a short walk. Then maybe we can blow off work and go to that supermarket you like?” He hunched his shoulders over and started towards his bike. _Should have worn a sweatshirt. Then I could pull the hood over my head._

**The one with the cannolis in the bakery? That would be good. Why are we walking like that?**

“Like what?” Another pedestrian walked past Eddie and he averted his gaze downward to avoid eye contact.

**Like we’re afraid someone’s looking at us. We can protect ourselves from people now, Eddie.**

“I know. And I don’t think anyone’s looking at us. But everyone _could_ be. Just- today’s not a good day for being around people, I guess.” Eddie stopped in front of his motorcycle and inhaled deeply. “There. Okay. We’re gonna get on the motorcycle, we’re gonna get some cannolis, and then we can sit and eat them before we go home. We don’t have to talk to anyone else.” A child across the street shrieked with glee at a nearby dog, and he flinched as though someone had threatened to hit him.

**But we talked to people a lot today. And it was fine.**

“Well that was- I think that was too much, maybe. And now we’re done, we can use the self check-out at the store, we know how to do that. We can even pick up some groceries. Should we make a list? Let’s do a list, here we go...” Eddie trailed off and pulled out his phone to use the note taking app. “French fries, milk, ground beef, broccoli—I know you don’t like vegetables, Venom, but we gotta eat ‘em sometime—oranges, bread, chocolate cannolis.”

**Eddie.**  

“I know, Venom.”

**Don’t forget to breathe.**

“I _know,_ Venom.”

**Do you?**

“Little shit.” Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to let go of the thoughts scrabbling for his attention like starving rats. 

**Not little.**

He smirked. “You’re inside me right now, so that means I’m bigger than you.”

**If you knew how much bigger I was, you would want-**

“Nope! No backseat commentary on the motorcycle unless our lives are in danger!” Satisfied that Venom would sulk the rest of the trip to the supermarket, Eddie set his gaze on the road ahead of him. The supermarket would be good because there was a routine there. He had a list. That would calm him down. 

* * *

 

They had only been at the market for twenty minutes when Eddie realized he’d made a mistake. There was a reason he hated shopping in normal-sized, fluorescent-lit grocery stores.

“I think they make the lights this abrasive on purpose. It feels like a nail is stabbing me through the eye.” Eddie pressed his fingers just below his eyebrows. “This is why I prefer Mrs. Chen’s. We’re never there long enough for the lights to hurt like this.”

**This is terrible. Can we go?**

“We got your cannolis and most of the stuff from the list, I’m happy to leave.”

**We hate this. They shouldn’t make lights that hurt everyone.**

“They don’t hurt everyone, exactly, and they don’t always hurt me. Only when I’m staring at them too long, and-” Eddie stopped and looked around him. There were quite a lot of people in the store, now that he was paying attention. He reoriented himself and sped towards the self-checkout.

**Is there danger?**

“I don’t- not really. Probably not. There’re more people here than I thought there would be. Let’s talk when we get outside. I can feel them turning to stare at me.”

**They should stare at us. We are perfect.**

“Nope, no, we don’t want them staring at us, that’s, that’s bad if that happens.” Eddie could tell his voice was starting to shake. He scanned the few items they’d found and jammed them into a few grocery bags. “Let’s just do credit, I don’t have the patience for this.”

He walked outside and sat in the corner of the market’s outdoor café seating. Making sure his back was to the railing—he felt compelled to observe his surroundings like a sentry—he ripped open the cannoli container and took a bite.

“These are amazing.”

**They are.** Eddie could feel Venom crowding forward in his headspace, metaphorically drooling over the dessert. 

“You get a lot of enjoyment out of watching me eat.” Eddie struggled to get the words out around a mouthful of chocolate cream.

**We get a lot of enjoyment out of eating.**

“True.” He shrugged. “Mind if we sit here for a bit until my eye stops twitching? Being inside that store was not conducive to calming down.”

**Sure. We should go home soon though. We’ve been... What is the word for it?**

“Anxious?”

**Yes. We have been anxious today.**

“It happens sometimes. Hopefully the ride home won’t be too bad.”

* * *

 It was. 

“Ninety-three minutes. Ninety-three minutes, Venom! We were half an hour away from our apartment.” The apartment door slammed back against the wall as Eddie strode in, kicked his shoes off, and dropped his helmet on top of them. “San Francisco traffic.” 

The small semblance of peace Eddie regained sitting outside the supermarket had vanished in the aftermath of the prolonged traffic jam. “Now _both_ of my eyes are twitching.”

He shoved the groceries into the fridge; not everything needed to be refrigerated, but he sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to sort through it. Eddie braced his hands on the back of his neck and tensed his whole body to keep from shaking.

**We’re shaking.**

Well, that hadn’t worked.

“Yeah. I pushed us too hard today. Really regret it. Now it feels like the world is screaming at me.”

**What are we going to do?**

“We are going to sit in our room, in the dark, and be very quiet for a bit. That should make my brain want to be quiet, too. Sorry to subject you to this, Venom. It hasn’t been this bad for a while.” 

**This has happened before?**

“Yeah, the last time, um, was after we killed Riot. Before you came back.” _When I thought you were dead,_ he wanted to add.

**Oh.**

Eddie gently shut the door to his room and sat on the floor in front of the bed. _Safe. We’re in the bedroom, which is safe. It’s dark and quite. I’m fine. I’m okay._

**Can I help?**

Eddie shifted awkwardly. “Actually... Do you remember this morning, when you...gave me a hug in the shower?”

**Yes. You liked it.**

“I did. When I get like this, I need pressure. I used to have a weighted blanket, but it got lost when I moved in with Anne. Can you do what you did before, but more just...pressing down on me?” 

**Anything to help you. Lay down on the bed first.**

Eddie pulled himself onto the bed and curled up on his side. Venom slowly wrapped bands of themself around him and pushed Eddie front-first into the mattress. They continued to form a thick layer on top of him until his entire back was covered. Gradually Venom began pressing down onto Eddie as he’d asked until Eddie sighed in contentment. 

“That’s better already. Thank you.” He closed his eyes and luxuriated in how he felt taken care of, contained, instead of overexposed to a world that was too bright, too loud, too close.

**You’re safe. You’re always safe with me. We protect each other.** Venom formed a hand near the back of Eddie’s head and began stroking his hair. **We’re okay.**

“Mm-hm.” A lazy smile appeared on Eddie’s face. “We’re good.”

**You should say it. For me. Tell me you’re safe when I have you.**

“I’m safe with you, Venom. Always.”

**In a few minutes, we’ll go back into the kitchen and eat dinner. We can even have that disgusting broccoli.**

“Okay. I want to stay like this for a while, though. Then we’ll make some healthy food.”

Eddie felt wrung out in a way that was at odds with getting home at 5pm and immediately going to bed. But for the first time that day, he didn’t feel ready to explode with panic. He wasn’t all the way back to normal, but it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading back over this, I’m not sure anxiety is the best word for what Eddie goes through in this chapter. It’s based off my own experience, though, and I don’t have any other words for it, so *shrug*.  
> The Homeless Advocacy Project is a real organization in San Francisco, and Theresa Friend is the actual director of it. Neither Tyler Lanning nor Ted Baskman is based on a real-life person, however.  
> The next chapter should be up about as fast as this one (maybe about a week from now). Thanks for reading!


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